Life Is Sweet
by Goddess Andraste
Summary: Finally free of the regs, Jack and Sam discover that life can be very sweet, indeed.


Title: Life Is Sweet

Author: Andraste

Category: Missing Scene/Romance

Disclaimer: Not mine, but I promise to put them back when I'm done. (Though Jack might be slightly…used. Hee.)

Spoilers: Avalon (S9)

Author's Notes: Special thanks to Ayiana for the beta and the prodding to post another story. I'd probably get around to it… Eventually. ducks

* * *

Well.

This was… Um…

Samantha Carter found herself, for once, completely without words. In fact, she was pretty sure that even if she were able to locate a few words, none would adequately describe her current situation.

But, honestly, she found it hard to mind.

Major General Jonathan J. O'Neill, newly-promoted and official head of Homeworld Security as of 57 minutes ago, was naked beneath her. She was naked. And they had just… Well, she supposed the apt term would be "screwed each other's brains out."

Crude, but apt.

She'd dreamed of their first time together for years. Once the regulations were no longer an issue, they would take things slow. Get to know each other as Sam and Jack, not Colonel/General O'Neill and Captain/Major/Lieutenant Colonel Carter. They'd go out on dates like a normal couple. After a logical progression of time, they would move in together, get engaged, and marry.

Fate, however, screamed a loud "bite me" at Samantha Carter's plan.

Jack's rapid promotion and transfer to Washington D.C. had been a huge shock to everyone. Sam had known he wasn't happy as the SGC's commander, but she'd expected him to retire, not accept a transfer across the country into a job that required even more paperwork and diplomacy than he had dealt with in Colorado.

When he'd gathered SG-1 together to tell them, he'd admitted that being base CO was driving him nuts. But he knew retirement now, after nine years of intergalactic trials and tribulations, would send him straight to an asylum. In D.C., he'd be able to be more of an influence, and he'd still have his hand in things at the SGC.

Sam had known that admission had been difficult for him, but she'd been blown away when, after dismissing Daniel and Teal'c, he'd turned to her and, with uncharacteristic seriousness, informed her that nine years was long enough, and if this was what it took to keep him sane, employed, and at last free from the shadow of the frat regs, so be it.

Now, 57… make that 58… minutes after Jack formally handed command of the SGC over to Hank Landry, Sam found herself in a blissful state of post-coital afterglow.

In Jack O'Neill's front hallway, one foot from the front door.

Fate was laughing hysterically.

Jack stirred beneath her, and she nearly purred as his hand trailed idly up and down her back. She smiled as his eyes fluttered open and blinked up at her. "Hi."

She nearly laughed when an extremely satisfied smirk crossed his face. "Hi." His head turned from side to side, as if inspecting the surroundings. "Sam. We're… Huh. This has never happened before."

Somehow, her bra ended up neatly hanging from the knob of the front door. Interestingly, one of Jack's socks was caught in the door. Sam realized, with an odd mix of embarrassment and amusement, that it was possible that some of their clothing was outside. There had been a considerable amount of groping and clothes tugging on the way to the front door.

Which was another thing that had never happened to her before.

She discovered that she liked it.

With a smug grin of her own, she brushed a kiss over his lips. "New for me, too."

They lay there quietly, Jack's hand continuing its slow trail up and down her back. While a few minutes ago it had been soothing, now it was waking her body up from its post-orgasmic coma.

"Sam."

She wondered idly if they could at least drag themselves to the couch. The wood floor probably wasn't doing Jack's back any good. "Hmm?"

She glanced down at him, and his earlier smugness had faded into what looked like concern. "I… This was a mistake."

Her first instinct was to jump up in indignation. However, nine years on the roller coaster ride that was Jack O'Neill had taught her many things, one of which was that Jack was spectacularly horrible when it came to verbalizing personal… well, anything. So she forced herself to remain calm and not jump to conclusions. He had to fumble through this on his own.

"For crying out loud, we're on the floor in my freaking entryway! I'm not very good at romantic gestures, but I'd kinda wanted our first time to at least be on a bed! Hell, even the couch would be good right now. I'm not a hormonal, brainless teenager! God, this is so… wrong."

Sam relaxed and fought back a smile. See, just give the man a minute, and he gets the words out. Granted, a bit messily, in the wrong order, and vaguely insultingly, but the sentiment was there.

Taking pity on him, she climbed to her feet (ignoring the ache of muscles that normally went unused) and pulled him through the living room to the couch. After some grunting and squirming, they resumed their previous position, Sam sprawled atop him. "Better?"

"My ass thanks you."

Having had the pleasure of grasping said ass minutes ago, Sam was happy to help.

"So… Um… You're not mad?" The teasing tone of his voice had shifted to worry.

Sam hadn't known he could be this adorable. He was genuinely concerned that he'd offended her by ravishing her to within an inch of her life. "Jack." God, it felt good to say his name, at last. "Do I look mad?"

He studied her carefully. Smugness began to reemerge. "Actually, you look… God, Sam. Totally hot."

Hot. Hmm. She liked that. "If you'll recall, there was an equal amount of action on my part, Jack. Your clothes didn't rip themselves off."

Smugness gave way to… Well, he was sporting that same knowing, shit-eating grin he'd had during the time loop mess. One of these days, she was going to have to ask him about that. She suspected he'd been up to no good, probably involving her, but she found it hard to mind. It was just so… Jack.

"Good point."

She idly ran her fingers over his chest, smoothing the soft hair. "If it makes you feel better, that wasn't exactly on my agenda, either."

"I guess…" His voice trailed off.

"You guess what?"

He sighed. "All these years of waiting, wondering, holding back… I guess I'm not surprised we were so…" He grinned. "But my front hallway? Wow."

Something occurred to Sam just then. Another part of her "plan" blown to hell. After all these years of strictly adhered-to "sirs" and "Carters," there should have been some awkwardness. Maybe not during that first passionate explosion, but afterwards. Now.

But there was none.

They had slipped from "Sir" and "Carter" to "Jack" and "Sam" without so much as a twitch of hesitation. It felt right. Normal. Or at least, as normal as anything ever was in their crazy lives.

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

She smiled. This was way ahead of her timetable, too, but, like everything else that day, it just worked. "You know I love you, right?"

His hand stilled on her back. Then a smile blossomed on his handsome face. A rare, genuine Jack O'Neill smile. "Yeah."

Once again, they were quiet. Sam was torn between falling asleep and finding some energy for round two. After the amount of energy that had been expended during round one, perhaps a short nap was in order.

"Sam?"

She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and arranged it over them. "Hmm?"

"You know I love you too, right?"

She kissed him gently. "Yeah."

No hallelujah chorus sounded. No harps, brass bands, rainbows, butterflies, or shooting stars.

The only sounds were gentle breathing, and Jack's heart thumping along under her ear.

"Jack?"

His chest rumbled. "Yeah?"

"Is there carpet in this house? Anywhere? The wood floor was nice, but a little cold."

He chuckled. "Some rugs."

She smiled. "Just checking. We'll try them out later."

Just before his eyes drifted shut, they twinkled impishly. "Sweet."

At that moment, life itself was pretty sweet.

And it was about damn time.


End file.
